


you twist to fit the mold

by doubtthestars



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-08
Updated: 2015-12-08
Packaged: 2018-05-02 14:12:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5251148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doubtthestars/pseuds/doubtthestars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"What is something you should do at least once in your life?" The interview goes on from silly to serious. Mario stares at the prompter for a moment. The words are in the back of his mind, the forefront taken up by images. "Go to the seaside." He decides on. He knows at least one other person watching this will know exactly what he means.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you twist to fit the mold

**Author's Note:**

  * For [acciothirteen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/acciothirteen/gifts), [veidtous](https://archiveofourown.org/users/veidtous/gifts).



> I miss the sea. listen to [x](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UeuvegBZFuM) for mood.

"What is something you should do at least once in your life?" The interview goes on from silly to serious. Mario stares at the prompter for a moment. The words are in the back of his mind, the forefront taken up by images. "Go to the seaside." He decides on. He knows at least one other person watching this will know exactly what he means.

The interview ends with hurry. All his thoughts were on Marco for some inexplicable reason, or just the simplest reason of all, missing him. Injuries had taken time from his partner, enough that he knows in his heart, he shouldn't be selfish and want for more from him. Marco had to get back on his feet and Mario had to focus on Bayern ( _what has changed for you since the world cup? how I am perceived_ ) that there was precious few moment to steal away for love.

He remembers when it wasn't so _hard_. The best moments in his life were with Marco (of that he has no doubt--that's why the world cup doesn't count as solid, permanent in his mind, Marco was gone in a flash and he was left anchorless--

The salty air whips blonde dyed hair around, sand is sticking everywhere, and Mario is happy.)

His father had a friend who would invite them to boat parties, small get-togethers on the river, never going too far from land, but Mario remembers the lurching stomach sensation as his body adjusted being on water yet still on solid flooring. He was smaller, younger, with knees that looked odd if he stood still too long. He gained his sea legs steadily, the water soothing instead of nauseating and by the time he could rent himself a yacht, he relished being on water. 

(It was a refuge from the field of dreams, the green and white trimmed tidily to keep him dependent on a win or loss. The ocean was friendly chaos, there wasn't a ball at his feet, just the lapping of currents and the wide world)

"Wait, hold still, I have to take a picture." Marco huffs in exasperation but stays put as Mario switches the mode of the camera. The sun is just right, giving his best friend an unearthly appearance, more walking shadow brought into the light than romantic but Mario has to capture it. Marco's first day at the beach. He has to remember everything.

They watched dawn light up the sky in rosy hues, the moon still slightly visible in the west. 

Marco had held his hand tight, wonder streaking across his face. Mario had smiled softly. "Was it worth getting up early?" 

(The answer was always yes for Marco, whether he had to drive miles, stay up late, or do the impossible, if Mario was there, he would always say yes because that was love. His actions were louder than words.)

Mario doesn't tell him about Bayern's offer. Mats jokes that Bayern would give him a yacht of his own if he sold his soul. Marco stares as if waiting for him to rebuff the whispers, patient in a way he didn't know Marco to be. The champions league games squeeze at his chest-- _sobbing out I love you, I love you at night--he doesn't know if this is about him staying or leaving but he's knows it's true._ Marco is gentle, silencing his misgivings for his sake. He is steady and sad as Mario cries.

(Why sunny?)

The yacht isn't his but Ann tells him to take Marco instead of her. Munich would be their stage and her hair couldn't take the damp sea air. 

"Please? I want you there." There's a thick, bitter panic in the back of his throat that he might say no, that he has other plans, other friends he wants to spend his vacation with. Their time was so short and they were caught in feelings too big for the moments they had (doubt creeps up his spine.) Marco knocks his shoulder back with the broad part of his palm. 

"Yeah, just tell me when to pack." 

"More like _what_ to pack, you always forget sunscreen." Mario's tension lifts and with that his mood goes up enough to poke fun at his partner.

"You always pack extra, I figure you can pick up my slack yeah?" Marco brings him in closer, arm around his neck to bury his hand in hair and mess it up. Mario laughs like he hasn't in months.

Marco gets seasick for the first couple of days but Mario doesn't stop smiling. _"You're my sunny. Bright." he kisses his nose. "Warm." his cheeks go red. "Marco, please." His eyelashes flutter. "I'm not done. You wanted an explanation right?" whispering in the dark he goes on, filling Mario's head up with love._

Mario shakes off the clouds in his head. He starts the car and dials Marco. 

"What's up?" 

"How do you feel about Ibiza this summer?"


End file.
